Unpacked is a new column from Backpacking Light by outdoor writer, gear tester, and librarian Mark Wetherington. It ranges from book reviews to essays on outdoor ethics and culture. There’s a richness in backpacking that’s rarely reflected in gear reviews and trip reports – this column aims to explore the deeper essence of our hobby with an insightful (and sometimes humorous) approach.
Things are in the saddle,
And ride mankind.Ralph Waldo Emerson, from “Ode, Inscribed to William H. Channing”
After spending an entire morning packing for a climbing, hiking, camping, and hot springs soaking trip in the hinterlands of Idaho at the end of September, I had an episode of Overwhelming Gear Accumulation Distress Disorder (OGADD). Multi-sport trips are perhaps the most common trigger for this syndrome—given that you must assemble gear from a variety of disciplines that often has limited double-duty capabilities—but it can occur in shoulder-seasons as well.
When one finds themselves standing in the dedicated gear room of their home and debating between bringing the 20 F (-7 C) sleeping bag or the 30 F (-1 C) sleeping bag, the inverted canister stove or the regular canister stove, the 9 oz (255 g) down jacket or the 11.5 oz (326 g) down jacket it means that OGADD is often close at hand. Car camping is also a noteworthy catalyst of OGADD as instead of worrying about pushing the limits of your 35-liter pack, the only thing you have to consider taxing is your vehicle’s suspension system.

When sitting around camp after an evening hot springs soak and slowly recognizing that I was almost completely surrounded by gear (see above photo), my companions and I engaged in some humorous banter about just how much stuff gets involved with relatively simple camping trips. To be fair, most of the gear was removed from my Honda Element so my girlfriend and I could sleep in the back, but the situation still had the trappings of ridiculousness. The notion from a Ralph Waldo Emerson poem about things being in the saddle and riding mankind, taken completely out of context courtesy of a few post-soak IPAs, came to mind.
Indeed, sometimes it seems like the gear—or the desire to accumulate more gear—begins to own you, rather than the other way around. Backpacking is an all-consuming passion of mine and has wielded an outsized influence in regard to the jobs I’ve worked, where I’ve chosen to live, and how I spend my free time. However, I’ve noticed that a dark side of that enthusiasm for backpacking can be a passion for consuming—in particular buying the latest and supposedly greatest gear that will allegedly take your backpacking experience to a new level.

I was lucky enough to get disabused of any notion I had of becoming a gear junkie when I worked in an outdoor retail shop a few years after I started backpacking. After unpacking, pricing, stocking, and talking about gear for hours every day, it lost its luster for me; my passion was for getting outside and I realized gear was merely a tool. I liked living in a home, for example, but I would derive little joy from working at a hardware store or discussing the finer points of washers and dryers in online forums. But for some reason backpacking and the gear that allowed me to have such amazing experiences in natural landscapes captivated me in a way that few other things in life did.
I also recognized rather quickly that, with few exceptions, once you have your basic kit dialed in that vastly more pleasure will come from channeling effort into planning trips than looking for places to save 50 grams of weight. In other words, if after you’ve assembled a functional kit you’re spending more time looking at gear specifications instead of maps, guidebooks, or other trip-planning resources then you might want to do some reflection on how you’re spending your free time.

Criticism aside, there are good reasons to have a healthy focus on buying quality gear that is appropriate for your hobbies. For one, it tends to make those hobbies more fun since you’re not being held back by equipment deficiencies—you have only yourself to blame for not climbing more difficult routes, not putting in more miles, or not catching wily trout at a subalpine lake. Additionally—and this is far and away my favorite part of all the gear I’ve accumulated over the years—is that it can allow you to share the experience more easily with others (i.e. by loaning them gear) or make the experience more enjoyable by getting fancy from time to time.
On the recent trip which inspired this piece, I was able to cook meals that would’ve been well-received at a backyard cookout but which hit the spot even more after a day of climbing or before a day of hiking. The sleeping system I use in the back of my car when car camping is almost as comfortable as my bed at home.
This isn’t exactly a new notion, and I give much credit to Paul Magnanti, who has covered it well on his blog over the years, but given that a season that emphasizes the buying, giving, and receiving of stuff is in full swing (I received no less than three emails about sales from gear companies while writing this piece) it seems a timely subject for Unpacked. While it’s tempting to give gear to yourself or others as a way to celebrate the holiday season, it’s worth it to take a step back and ponder other options.

Far and away the best gifts you can give to yourself, or to others, is time or knowledge. Planning a trip with a friend or family member and spending that time with them is infinitely more valuable and memorable than any item on a 2020 Gear Guide. Making a conscious effort to learn a new skill—like dehydrating your own food, route planning, or gear repair—will likely improve your experiences long after whatever piece of gear you buy has lost its shine. Sharing information with a friend about a stellar campsite, off-trail waterfall, or trout-filled lake is more heartwarming than any gift card. Gear certainly helps you achieve trips that make memories, but unless you get out there and use it the only thing gear will remind you of is buying it. And what excitement or enrichment is there in that?
What I remember most about the trip to Idaho is climbing with friends, eating delicious food, a beautiful hike, crisp September air, and a roadside hot springs soak to break up the drive back home. And, of course, the good-natured chiding from my companions about the inordinate amount of stuff I brought along to pull it off.
Related Content
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- More Unpacked by Mark Wetherington
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- Read Mark’s recent review of the REI Co-op Flash Air 2
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Discussion
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A recent multi-sport adventure got BPL columnist Mark Wetherington thinking about gear and our relationship to it.
Thoreau’s chapter Economy in his book Walden deals with a lot of this. Every major religion has something to say about materialism too. https://reddit.com/r/minimalism/ is an interesting read now and then as well, with folk who aret rying to get some control over stuff.
I’ve definitely found that most hobbies are a rabbit hole for acquiring a lot more stuff.
I bought a teardrop trailer this summer and yes indeed, even such a minimalist RV invites all kinds of add on’s, like chairs, shade canopies, a whole new kitchen setup, etc, etc, etc.
Fishing, photography, cycling and skiing can all rob your wallet and fill your basement.
I call the disease TMS, the polite form being Too Much Stuff.
“I bought a teardrop trailer this summer and yes indeed, even such a minimalist RV invites all kinds of add on’s, like chairs, shade canopies …”
I’ve got an old aluminized cuben tarp that someone made for me years ago that I have no use for. It could make a nice additional shade canopy, if you want it you can have it.
Thanks so much, but I have that “covered”. I was at REI and found a nice Kelty canopy at a bargain price.
I resisted, but it allows cooking and dining in the rain. My objection is as much the fiddle factor as just managing the stuff.
I watched others in campgrounds roll up with massive RV’s and then drag out patio level furniture, CARPETS, dog runs, etc. The ultimate was a woman hollering to her husband, “Bob, the blender won’t work!” My God, just drink the Tequila in neat shots!
“My God, just drink the Tequila in neat shots!”
The solution to so many of life’s minor problems :)
I suppose drinking the Tequila straight out of the bottle would be the ultimate minimalist approach : )
And if the flask is carried in your pocket it doesn’t count as pack base weight!
Thank you for the timely article Mark. Everything we own owns a piece of us. I’m still laughing at your stove comparison as I was actually just making decisions for an upcoming trip: Use a canister top BRS3000 with a Moulder strip….. or…. use Roger’s V4 remote canister beauty. I already sold my Kovia Spider, but I can cut some grams with alcohol or esbit. Oh the endless possibilities! I think the V4 wins!
I’m pretty sure I compensate for not being able to get out as often as I would like by purchasing new things and dreaming of getting out. A poor substitute. Maybe it’s time to flip the tables!
Starting to look at bikepacking and car camping, …. I’d like to stay with existing gear if solo, as I don’t currently “hang out” inside a car-camping tent. So current looking at fly and inner net systems where the fly is available in both ultralight dyneema 0.5 for backpacking and UV resistant silpoly to leave up during the day if car-camping (or anything similar). That’s solo of course. My sleep system can stay the same, but my cooking system could use a size upgrade (have some “camping dishware” too to add, though got to think about cleaning it vs. backpacking where I eat direct from pot). As can more lighting hygiene and even camp clothes. I have a large black plastic box with secured lid I can store it all in (food separately).
Think if car camping with a significant other, I’d want a 3 or 4 person shelter with more features. If leaving it up during the day while away, I’d also want it cheap as campsite pilfering gets to be a problem. Still would keep my “core” additional cooking, lighting, hygiene, etc.. stuff in the same plastic bin.
I think I’ve found my mantra for 2021, right here on this thread. “Bob, the blender won’t work!”
Gear? Hell, just plug in to the local stump…
@Dale Wambaugh, you are so right about hobbies being rabbit holes. I bought my first Tenkara rod thinking it would reduce the amount of fishing gear I take backpacking. Now sometimes I take TWO Tenkara rods because, well, they’re different. Sigh.
As I get older and realize how much gear and STUFF that I’ve accumulated over the years, I am trying to be more aware of whether or not that STUFF is a means to an end or an end in itself. If something no longer brings joy or hasn’t been used in some time, I try to pass that gear on to someone who might need it or treasure it more. I’ve still got a ways to go, it is a process, but awareness is a good step in the right direction.
You’re welcome, glad you got a laugh out of it and could relate. Hope you had/have a great trip!
That’s pretty much my strategy. I keep it simple when solo car camping, but then try to increase the “liveability” and comforts when with a significant other. Although I have found that if trying to get a really early start it’s helpful for me (I sleep in my vehicle) to leave my backpack packed and ready, and in the car just use a spare sleep system and stove/cook kit. That way I don’t have to wake up, repack everything, and then hit the trail . . . I can just put everything into big stuff sacks and toss it in the roof box and hit the trail. Also makes it much less likely I’ll forget something . . . I’ve found these days I’m more focused on efficiency and protecting myself from my own forgetfulness than saving weight.
“I’ve found these days I’m more focused on efficiency and protecting myself from my own forgetfulness than saving weight.”
+1. At some point my TPW got low enough to enjoy trips, stop caring about every gram, and optimize other things.
Reducing pre-trip choices has its own pleasure. Plus as @davidinkenai likes to point out “beware the man with one gun” because he’s really good with it (applies to any gender.) Same idea is true for most backpacking gear.
— Rex
I’ve said a few times here over the years that I have 200 pounds of lightweight backpacking gear – and I do.
Many of us here have asked in vain for a 12 step program for this addiction. “Hi, my name is Eric and I’m a gearaholic.” (sob!)
Recently however I have given much of that extra gear to my two grandsons. We’ve had one “training” backpack and when I get my vaccinations we’ll have some more. So Fate had a “plan” for my gear. (That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.)
only 200 lb?
Wimp.
But it is a LOT cheaper than owning a boat.
(Boat: a hole in the water maintained by the constant injection of $100 notes.)
Cheers
Or a bike with all your backpacking gear strapped on and it’s own endless list of “needs.”
And a horse is a leather sack lined with money.
So true. In the cycling community, the formula thrown around for the number of bikes you “need” is = N + 1, where N = the number currently owned. This equation may also be re-written as S-1 , where S is the number of bikes owned that would result in separation from your partner. Pretty universal formula for fly rods, packs, stoves, etc.
N+1 also applies to the number of girl-friends you need?
Dale Wambaugh,
“And a horse is a leather sack lined with money.”
HAHAHAHA…
God, the truth!!
At least we aren’t all car collectors…
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